Lucille's Kiss
by Blaiser
Summary: Takes place after S7E01. Maggie has been taken to the Sanctuary and Negan is prepping her to be one of his wives. This story is going to be pretty dark and nasty so be warned.
1. Cleanliness Is Next To Godliness

With a contented sigh, Negan let his slender frame sink back into the water's embrace, enjoying its warmth as it loosened up his stiff muscles.

A sweet scent of minty soap filled his nostrils, and he breathed in deeply before closing his eyes and resting his head on the edge of the tub a few inches above the waterline.

It had been a long-ass day, filled with overseeing collections of offerings from the Hilltop and Alexandria, and taking care of a few internal disputes at the Sanctuary that had made his head hurt and forced him to break out the iron and use it on two of his own workers.

It had been a damned shame but that was just the way it was. Order came first then people's wellbeing. Everyone had to understand that and respect it and if that meant burning off the faces of a few people, well so be it.

But despite those few minor nuisances' life was good Negan had to admit.

King Ezekiel and that pencil-dicked coward, Gregory, stayed in line as they always had done and even Rick the Prick was starting to get with the program. When it came down to it, the rest of his problems was nothing more than a mosquito bite on an elephant's ass-cheek.

There was no need to ruin a perfectly good moment like this one, worrying about unimportant trifles within his own ranks.

Negan emptied his mind of his thoughts and allowed himself to relax.

For a long while the room was dominated by silence until a single drop fell from the tap, making a dull plop as it hit the surface of the water.

Opening his eyes and shifting his gaze to the figure in the far corner of the bathroom, he eyed the brunette, _the widow_; her head bowed, arms crossed and eyes fastened on the marble tiles in front of her.

She looked pissed, looked as though she wanted nothing more than to murder him, to drown him in that very tub he was currently soaking in.

She had been in the Sanctuary for little over three weeks at this point, but still resented him every bit as much as she had the night he bashed her _what's-his-face_ husband's skull in.

Dealing with her was like trying to tame a wolverine or some shit, but Negan welcomed the challenge nevertheless. It was always fun to break the wild ones.

And she would _break._

They all did sooner or later. One way or the other.

Negan smiled to himself.

"Maggie girl?"

He waited until her eyes met his, before giving her his widest grin, most beaming smile.

She stared back, nothing but pure hatred in her eyes. Apparently she was immune to his charm.

Negan sat up with a light grunt.

"Fetch me a drink, would ya, darlin'?"

He kept smiling as she stared at him, a green gaze that promised slow, painful death.

"If you don't mind, that is?"

"Of course. No problem" She said in that sexy ass southern drawl that made his balls tingle.

"Whiskey. 18 years. Single malt…and oh!" He snapped his fingers once "don't forget the ice."

She stared at him and he stared back, daring her to do something. Anything.

It was always so much fun to cross the line, especially with people like her.

She sent him one last glower before exiting the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

Negan watched her go and chuckled as he let himself slide backwards till his head rested on the tub's edge once again. His eyes shifted to Lucille, leaning up against the wall next to the tub within arm's reach.

"My dirty_, dirrrtyyy_girl_,"_he whispered lovingly to the barbed wired clad bat_._

With the smile still on his lips, Negan closed his eyes.

Glenn. That was her boyfriend's name. Or husband's. Or whatever he had been to her (not that it mattered). Negan remembered it now.

That sad-looking shit-bird whose head had been an oozing pulp of flesh, brains and blood once Lucille was done kissing him.

He hadn't planned on killing that one, but sometimes unexpected opportunities arose in the wake of people's bad decisions - in this case Rick and Daryl's - and that gave him an excuse to feed Lucille which was always a pleasure.

The brave-ass ginger had been totally on purpose though.

That ini mini miny moe bullshit had just been a little bit of psychological warfare, meant to scare the living shit out of Rick's group by letting them believe that Negan's decisions were coincidental.

But of course Lucille knew who she wanted in advance, and that Glenn had been a spur of the moment kind of thing. They had to be taught a lesson and he had been that lesson learned the hard way.

The door creaked open. Negan inhaled deeply and smiled.

"_Ooh-wee_! That sure was fast, Maggie-gal! I knew you couldn't stay away from _this_ for long..."

His sentence was cut off by the ball-retracting feeling of something cold and hard, pressed against his Adam's apple.

_What the shit?..._

Opening his eyes suddenly, Negan stared up into the black Samurai chick's dark, narrowed ones.

Her katana was poised, ready to slice his throat wide open.

Carefully, well aware of the threat to his life, Negan opened his mouth to protest but was halted by her lifting her finger to her lips, shushing him.

"Be very still Negan," she hissed quietly and pressed the blade so hard against his stubbly skin, he heard the steel graze the hairs there.

"And do what I say, when I say."

She kept the sword pressed firmly against his neck while she took a step back towards the door.

"Get up slowly. And come with me you son of a bitch."


	2. The Art of Threading Carefully

Negan's eyes shifted from the woman's to the katana and then back again, locking her gaze.

He remembered her from Alexandria and from that time he introduced himself to Rick and his group by killing the ginger-haired flattop and the widow's husband. She had been on her knees then, just like all the others, and he had pointed Lucille at her which she definitely didn't care for but still handled better than most people in that particular shit-your-pants situation usually did.

Her name escaped him but that didn't really matter to him right now; what mattered was how in the hell she had slipped into the heart of the Sanctuary, and where the fuck his clearly incompetent men were.

Had this woman simply gone unnoticed through the entire complex or cut her way through his people like some bad-ass ninja from a Tarantino-movie, blood and guts flying everywhere, painting the walls a scarlet red?

_I don't buy it. No sir-ree._

It just didn't add up, there had to be others. This was no lone-ranger shit, Negan decided. There were too many Saviours and too many precautions taken for one person to make it in alone.

She had to have had help of some kind, perhaps from that disobedient fucker, Rick.

Yes, this had Rick the Prick written all over it.

How he was going to pay for this one.

_But what about gunfire?_

There had been none, otherwise Negan would surely have heard it, wouldn't he?

Either Rick and his group had managed to secretly scrape together enough guns and silencers to storm the Sanctuary or they had made their way in using just knives and what other tools Negan had let them keep when the Saviours emptied Alexandria's weapon deposit.

Was that scenario even possible?_If so color me impressed,_ Negan thought as he took measure of the woman looming over him.

Of course Rick still had to go, but goddamn if Negan didn't have to at least give him some credit for this stealthy-ass operation before he swung Lucille and sent Rick off to die in a puddle of his own brains and blood.

If he ever made it out of this tub that was.

"Darlin'.." Negan's smile had faded a little but still remained fixed in place, a mischievous glint now shone in his hazel eyes. "…what in Jesus' holy ballsack are you doing here?"

"Did I not make myself clear before? Don't speak unless you're spoken to!" She hissed and with almost surgical precision let the sword lightly glance over his skin under the right side of his jaw, merely grazing it sufficiently to draw blood.

Negan let out a surprised grunt, but remained still, never taking his eyes off the woman. The katana was still pressed so hard against his neck, a single wrong move could cause the blade to cut into his carotid artery.

A few drops of blood travelled from the fresh cut, down his chest and mixed with the water, turning it a light pinkish color.

"Next time I'm cutting deep," she warned him.

_I'm gonna pretend that didn't just happen_, he wanted to say, to threaten her perhaps or give her an ultimatum like a _stay-and-die-or-leave-now-and-remain-amongst-the-living_ kinda thing, but something about the woman's demeanor combined with the vengeful look in her eyes, persuaded him to be silent for once.

Instead Negan smiled wider.

"Get up" she repeated, this time her voice betrayed her impatience. "very slowly. Can you do that, Negan? Or do I have to hurt you for real?" The woman let the katana glide over to Negan's shoulder where it came to rest, edge pointed towards his neck, and took yet another step back, granting him a little room to move.

As per que Negan put both hands on the tub's edge. "Oki-dokey, but I'm warning you" he said with a grin "after you've done seen what I'm packing, hell you might never look at another man the same way again!"

Watching the sword follow his every move, he lifted himself carefully from the tub, painfully aware of the threat mere inches away from his jugular, and straightened up to his full height.

The woman's uninterested eyes rested on him, then travelled down the length of his naked body and back up.

"Sure…" A snort escaped her. She seemed equally parts amused and angry now. "I will probably never do that, but not for the reason you think. Was the water really that cold?"

Negan opened his mouth to give a comeback, but she halted him by pressing the side of the blade down on his shoulder. "No, no. Remember what I said? only when spoken to."

Negan swallowed bitterly and shot the woman the stink eye; a look she simply returned and somehow seemed better at than him. With her free hand she motioned for him to step out of the tub and he complied by carefully stepping out onto the tiles besides her, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Very good" she said in a tone that suggested more sarcasm than praise "now turn around and put your hands behind your back."


	3. The Walk

The handcuffs clamped painfully around his wrists and Negan winced, sucking air through clenched teeth and making a hissing sound.

"Move!" The woman, now behind him, instructed harshly as she shoved him hard in the back, guiding him towards the open door.

"You _do_ know this doesn't end well for you, right?" he said over his shoulder while stumbling forward and almost hitting his head on the doorframe in the process, "you, Rick, your merry little band in Alexandria… my people will come down hard…"

His words were cut short by the woman's malignant giggle.

She grabbed his left forearm hard, halting him just before the exit.

"_Your people_?" The woman scoffed, "don't care about you no more, Negan! How in the hell do you think I got in here? Most of them left you for a better life at the Hilltop and Alexandria, and the ones that didn't, I took care off."

She was lying - she had to be.

It was all a bluff.

He wanted to call it, but in that same instant he opened his mouth to speak, he felt the tip of her katana between his shoulder blades, resting against a vertebrae and was instead distracted by the image of a blade cutting through his skin, tendons and flesh as easily as a knife through soft butter.

The woman did not have to speak to get her point across; the message was unmistakable.

_I'm the one doing the talking, not you._

He decided to keep quiet, at least for the time being. There was something about the woman's demeanour that told him she meant business and wouldn't hesitate to kill him if she had to.

But why was she keeping him alive to begin with?

Perhaps her people wanted a public execution.

That would be so like holier-than-thou, nauseating politically correct Rick. Probably by good, old-fashioned hanging too, the kind that made Rick feel like the sheriff in a western, the one who kills the bad guy and saves the day.

Negan knew his types of men very well, and Rick the Prick was the kind of asshole who would grow stiff just thinking about that sort of thing, being the hero and all that shit….

His thoughts were interrupted by the woman's mouth against his ear, her voice was a soft purr.

"Yeah that is right, you bastard. They have denounced you and left you behind like the sad piece of murderous shit that you are."

There was a short pause before she continued.

"You're making empty threats. You don't have the power to command anyone any longer - the sooner you realize that, the less humiliating your downfall is gonna be."

With that, she once again shoved him hard in the back, herding him forward into the hallway.

The stepped into the long and dimly lit corridor that led from the bathroom at one end to six other rooms in Negan's private section of the Sanctuary.

From a distance Negan could make out something or someone laying across the hallway around halfway towards the end of it.

As they neared the form, he saw that it was in fact the headless body of a woman - one of his soldiers most likely.

The samurai had made at least one kill. She hadn't lied about that part.

_At least there was someone with balls big enough to do their fucking job_.

He scanned the corpse from the neck wound down to her boots, curious to know who she was.

When his eyes reached the woman's hip, he noticed her .44 was still holstered which meant that her job of defending him had been less great than he initially thought.

As he stepped over the body, careful not to put his bare feet down in the pool of blood surrounding it, Negan recognized the motive on the back of the woman's shirt.

It was from the Bannaroo music and arts festival 2005.

He knew of only one person who wore a shirt like that.

_Ain't that a bitch._

"I see you killed Arat. Too bad. She was one of my best people."

He turned and looked directly at his captor, giving her a smile that wasn't really a smile at all.

"Did you cut her down from behind? Just asking…for a friend."

"She never knew what hit her…" the woman responded quietly with no small amount of cynicism in her voice.

Her eyes were like dark, shimmering pits that drilled their way into Negan's. It made him a little nervous and for a moment he actually felt like looking away, but stopped himself and instead held her gaze, uncomfortable as it was.

No fuckin' way he was going to show any kind of weakness.

Weakness is what got you killed in this world.

It was almost as deadly as kindness.

"…which was more than she deserved – more than any of you people deserve."

With an expression of disgust on her face, the samurai looked down his naked body and seemed to halt around his midsection.

Her expression morphed into one of amusement and she made a snorting sound.

Was this woman staring at his dick?

"The only reason you're still breathing, is because we need you to be – at least for a little while. You keep talking even though I told you not to. Be mouthy again and I won't think twice about removing _that_ tiny part of you. You don't really need it to be useful to us."

She pointed the sword at his groin-area, but kept it at a somewhat safe distance.

"Tell me you understand, Negan."

"Come on girl…you wouldn't do that…"

"Try me."

The katana moved closer and closer, the tip pointed directly at the base of his cock.

"I understand." He stated quickly and watched with relief as the woman after a few seconds of looking like she had been cheated out of something good, drew her sword backwards.

He tried to swallow discretely, but his treacherous dry throat made a clicking sound and he hated it.

The woman made a gesture with her free hand.

_Turn around_.

Slowly, carefully, Negan turned his back to her, his face burning red hot.

With her dick-threat she had shut him up, made him feel like a weak piece of shit, and for that he promised himself that if he survived this cluster-fuck of a situation he found himself in, this woman was going to be the first of her kind to meet Lucille.

He didn't enjoy killing women, but this one…well, this one had it coming big time.

They both remained silent as they made their way down the hallway. At the very end of it, they came to a halt at a massive mahogany door.

When it became clear to Negan that this was their stop and that the woman was not in fact lost, a small and rare sense of alarm rushed through him.

This was the door leading to his master bedroom; a room with no other exits than the one they now stood in front of.

It was a dead end.

They weren't fleeing the Sanctuary, a very strange and seemingly unwise decision on the woman's part given that she had just broken into unknown territory filled with enemies armed to the teeth and kidnapped their hauncho.

If it were Negan in her sneakers, he would have wanted to get out - and fast - but the woman was deliberately backing herself into a corner…why was that?

_Perhaps she wasn't lying after all._

He looked over his shoulder at the samurai still pointing her sword at his back.

The place _was_ awfully quiet.

Perhaps the disloyal fuckers really had revolted and left him behind, Arat being one of the only true soldiers left (if not the only one.)

Perhaps they were all dead, chopped up by Rick and his dick-less crew of peasants with their pitchforks and machetes.

Or maybe, just maybe…Rick had somehow convinced his people to give him up, promising them a share in Alexandria's abundance in return for Negan's head on a platter.

He could guess away the reasons for his current circumstances all the live long day and still not come any closer to the truth. There were too many possible causes – all highly unlikely, yes, but never the less possible.

Negan had lived too long to know not to rule anything out.

"Open it."

He could see the woman's lips curl up into a sneer, and once again he felt the cold steel touch his skin.

"I can't!" He wriggled his hands in the cuffs "Hello!"

"Use your fucking mouth!"

Negan turned his gaze back towards the door, took in a deep breath of the hallway's air that now reeked of his former lieutenant's blood, and did as commanded.


	4. The Beginning of the End

The door swung open and Negan spat protestingly, trying to rid himself of the foul taste of the door handle.

Once again he looked over his shoulder at the samurai.

"Happy?"

"Let's go." She drove him forward with a hard shove in the back, and Negan stumbled into his master bedroom with the woman right behind him.

Other than the familiar feel of the soft carpet between his toes, the sparse lighting and the temperature which was on the chilly side like he usually preferred it when he had to either sleep or fuck one of his wives, was about all he had time to register before a familiar, spiteful voice sounded out from across the room.

"_Negan_."

At the foot of the king-sized bed, the widow sat casually leaned back; a crystal glass filled to the brim with whiskey in one hand, her other hand resting on the green silk duvet.

At her side was a black backpack, the kind that made Negan think of trekkers or some other outdoorsy types from the world before it all went to shit. It had a little logo of a curled up fox on it.

To the widow's left on the marble nightstand was Arat's severed head, opening and closing its mouth like a laughing mechanical clown at a morbid fucking fun fair.

A chill ran through Negan and he had to suppress a shudder.

Seeing a severed head - even one belonging to one of his own people - weren't exactly shocking nor was it a first but giving the situation and him being somewhat helpless, naked and cuffed as he was, the sight of Arat's noggin turned walker did make him feel – at least momentarily- alarmed.

However, Negan wasn't new to the game and neither was he the type to flaunt weaknesses. He had talked and bluffed his way out of worse situations and he sure as shit was never going to let these women know that they had one up on him.

"Hello Maggie Girl" He said with usual amount of sass. "I see you met Arat."

His eyes shifted from the head back to Maggie.

He hadn't noticed how sexy she looked the first time around as Arat's head had been too distracting, but he certainly did now.

She probably didn't mean to, but even in worn jeans and a plaid shirt she still couldn't hide the fact that she was an attractive woman.

The one behind him wasn't bad either but she had pissed him off royally at this point and fucking her was the last thing on Negan's mind.

The situation was far from ideal, and yet a sense of relief washed over him then.

For good reason he was expecting it would be Rick behind that door and god knows that would have been hell of a different situation.

Women, hell he could charm the panties of those. They were just easier to deal with, more _controllable._

Or at least they usually were and that was good enough for him.

This was as good a time as any to test his captors' resolution.

Negan could feel his cockiness returning.

"Do you think that's a good idea darling?" He nodded towards the drink in Maggie's hand, then he shot her a bright smile "I mean with you being knocked up and all that".

He barely had time to see her eyes light up, before the woman behind him had grabbed him by hair and pulled his head backwards. Next thing he knew there was a sword at his throat.

"Say the word, Maggie, and this all ends here." The samurai sneered, tightening her grip on Negan's hair.

For a second it looked to Negan as though Maggie might choose to have the samurai slit his throat. She certainly was tempted by it; her hatred of him evident in her eyes.

Had he made the mistake of overplaying his role or had he just plain out underestimated her?

"That would be too easy, Michonne, too merciful for a sack of shit like him. Let's just stick to the plan."

She put down the drink on the nightstand next to Arat's head and grabbed the backpack then got up from the bed and walked right up to Negan, putting her face up close to his.

"I thought for a long time about what to do with you, Negan…how to even the score after what you did to Glen and Abraham and all the others. I thought about killing you in so many ways – ways I didn't even know I could think up".

She opened the backpack and stuck her hand inside.

"But then I thought about the kind of man that you are, and about how there are worse ways of dealing with someone like you than just putting a bullet through your skull or slitting your throat."

A light jingling sound could be heard as Maggie pulled out her find from the pack.

Negan looked from her green eyes heavy with suppressed anger, down to the dog collar now resting in her hand.

She stood for a moment seemingly enjoying the look of puzzlement on Negan's face before she grabbed his chin and forced him to look her in the eyes again.

"I'm not gonna give you the martyrdom Rick would have, but trust me Negan...before I'm done you are most certainly going to wish you were dead".


End file.
